Homebound
by TiTivillus
Summary: It kind of figured that after everything Sam had been through lately, the one thing that broke him was driving across the country with Dean's coffin in tow. Coda to 14x12 "Prophet and Loss"


**Title:** Homebound

 **Summary:** _It kind of figured that after everything Sam had been through lately, the one thing that broke him was driving across the country with Dean's coffin in tow. Coda to 14x12 "Prophet and Loss"_

 **Warnings:** Rated T for mentions of past child neglect, bad language, mentions of violence, injury. Spoilers up until and including 14x12.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the show or its characters.

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The drive back home was spent in blessed silence.

Gazing straight ahead through the windshield, Dean was only half-aware of the world outside the familiar comfort of the Impala. His hands were firmly wrapped around the wheel, the almost soundless changing of gears soothing his soul as they cruised down the freeway.

Sam sat with his forehead pressed against the cool car window, fogging up the glass with his breath. He hadn't said a word since his emotional outburst and Dean glanced over at him every couple of minutes with wary appraisal, checking to make sure the worst of whatever-the-hell had just happened was over. He inwardly cringed at the way the street lights reflected on Sam's wet cheeks and pretended he didn't see the occasional tear that still escaped from his brother's eyes.

But with every mile Dean's heart grew a bit heavier, his hands tightening around the steering wheel to a point where his fingertips started tingling. He wanted nothing more but to hit the brakes hard and swerve to a halt on the hard shoulder of the highway. He wanted to tell Sam to calm down, that they were alright, give him a second hug if that's what he needed. Anything to make the tears stop. But Sammy had always kept things bottled up for so long it damn near broke him in the process.

Sam had been unapologetically passive-aggressive about Dean's little suicide mission, but Dean had felt his brother's anger building through the whole course of their trip. He had practically tasted Sam's disappointment and frustration at every blow-off and dismissive comment Dean made. So really, Dean had seen this coming. But nothing could have prepared him for the burst of violence when Sam's strained desperation and grief finally got the better of him.

See, Sam wasn't a violent person. He never used his physical advantage over anyone, least of all someone he cared about. It was against his beliefs and morals. And with Dean he had never needed to use his fists before because all it had ever taken from him to convince Dean whenever it really mattered, was one poignant look of those soulful eyes. Dean had never known how to say 'no' to Sam and now that he'd finally amped up the strength to attempt it – to ignore his little brother's pleas and do the right thing- Sam quite literally tore his carefully crafted determination to shreds with sheer physical force.

Sam had pressed all the right buttons because he _knew_ them all by heart, knew exactly what to say, knew where to apply pressure to make Dean cave. Appealing to their belief in _family_ , in brotherhood, reminding Dean of all the sacrifices Sam had made for him, of everything they'd lived through and fought for and accomplished.

And when all of that still hadn't gotten the expected result, Sam had grabbed him like he never wanted to let go, like the mere thought of a separation was unbearable and Dean had known it then – with Sam sniffling softly in his ear and grabbing desperate fistfuls of Dean's jacket – that there was no way this trip was going to end with him dying. Sam wasn't ready. He was begging Dean to find another way. He was _crying._

And to Dean, not even the prospect of Michael burning the world to ashes seemed as terrible as the sight and sound of Sam's pain.

Dean might not always have been the greatest brother to Sam. But he had always tried his best. Taking care of Sam and protecting him, would forever and always be the most crucial pillar of Dean's identity which was why he couldn't just stand by and do nothing while Sam broke apart right in front of him.

So he caved. Told Sam that they would go home, that they would try to find a way until there was nothing left for them to try, until there was absolutely no other way. It wasn't a cure-all solution to their problem. But it was a promise of 'I'm not ditching you' and 'It's not like I _want_ to leave you' and 'Whatever you need, Sammy'. _Always._

It figured, that even after everything Sam had been through lately, after having his own history with archangels spat back in his face, _this_ would be his breaking point. That the one thing that broke him was driving across the country with Dean's coffin in tow.

By the time they reached the bunker, the sun had gone up, spreading her gold in every direction.

Dean sent another glance over at Sam, satisfied to see that his brother's eyes were still closed.

He parked the car in the garage and killed the engine. Sam didn't stir, not even with the sudden lack of the Impala's purr so startlingly loud in the dead silence of the morning. Under different circumstances it would have been alarming for a hunter as experienced as Sam to be so careless, but not after the day they'd just had.

Gently, Dean got out of the car, leaving his door open so as not to startle Sam awake. He rounded the Impala and opened the trunk, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for; their graciously equipped med kit.

After a minute, Cas appeared next to him, watching him quietly. Dean didn't pay him much attention as he sifted through the kit, picking out a few selected items. He was too tired to attempt at having a conversation. Everything that needed to be said had been said back there. No need to make this any more painful on either of them.

Cas stood there with his hands buried in his coat, looking oddly out of place between all the cars of the bunker's garage. He was part of their family, a brother and a friend. But the only reason why Dean wasn't lying trapped in a box at the bottom of the Pacific right now, was _Sam._ As much as Dean appreciated Cas, nothing the angel could have said or done would have had the same effect on Dean. Nothing _anyone_ could have said or done would have even come close to having the same effect.

No, this had been all about _them._ It was between Sammy and him and Cas knew that.

"I'm glad Sam managed to break through to you," Cas eventually said and Dean looked up at him, then, holding the angel's piercing blue stare. "He needs you. We all do."

Dean swallowed thickly.

He closed the trunk, trying not to think about how Michael was still trapped in his head and about how Dean was endangering all of them just by sticking around.

"I'll give you two some space. You know where to find me." Cas gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze and then turned on his heels.

Dean watched him go, his trench coat billowing behind him. As soon as the soft echo of the door falling shut behind Cas filled the air, Dean circled the car and slipped back behind the wheel.

Sam was still asleep, which was really a testament to how utterly exhausted he was. Dean studied his features for a moment, trying not to worry too much about the dark circles beneath Sam's eyes. As if feeling Dean's appraising eyes on him, Sam startled awake. His eyes went wide and his arms flailed a little before he regained his bearings. Dean caught his hands and lowered them carefully. "Woah, there. Easy."

"Sorry," Sam muttered, throwing a cursory glance around. His eyes were still a bit puffy and he looked younger than his actual age. "We home? What time's it?"

"Just after six." Dean answered and turned Sam's hand around so he could check his knuckles for bruising. Dean's jaw probably hurt a whole lot more than Sam's fingers, but he still needed to make sure they hadn't missed anything serious like a fracture.

"Dean, stop." Sam tried to pull his hand back. "Nothing's broken."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Dean muttered as he held on tight, testing each of Sam's fingers for any hidden injuries. "Hold still."

Sam bit back whatever answer sat on the tip of his tongue and begrudgingly allowed Dean to check him over. When everything was said and done, Dean released Sam's hand, satisfied to see that there would be no lasting damage.

"Dean, I…" Sam started and then broke himself off again. Dean just waited him out until Sam lifted his eyes up to meet his. It stung a bit to see how much pain was in the depth of those ocean green pools. How hard all of this had really hit Sam. "I should be the one who—"

"I'm fine," Dean cut his brother off with a wave of his hand, knowing where Sam's mind had inevitably wandered. It was clear from the way Sam ducked his head and bit his lip and avoided eye contact at all costs that he felt guilty as hell for the punch. Which was ridiculous because Dean knew why Sam had done it - he knew that it was all just Sam's misplaced frustration and the fear of losing him that had compelled it. Dean sighed. "Not like I have never clocked you one before. Besides, I had it coming."

Sam pressed his lips together.

Dean sighed. There was more silence and he almost thought that they would both leave it at that. He made to move out of the car, but then Sam's hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of Dean's jacket. His wide-eyed gaze latched onto Dean with renewed desperation and instantly, Dean let go of the car door, a worried frown in place.

"I promised you that I was gonna do it, Dean," Sam rasped out, sounding absolutely wrecked. "If… if there's no other way, I will do it. I _promised_ you that."

Dean frowned, wondering where Sam was going with this.

"But please don't treat this like we're only delaying the inevitable," Sam said, his eyes boring straight through to his soul. "I want you to really try and make it through this. Promise me that you'll at least _try_."

Dean felt his own throat close up on him.

"Cause if this is supposed to be some sort of extended… _goodbye._ Then I'm not sure I can handle it," Sam added with an undercurrent of more tears in his voice. He looked away again, his eyes shiny and wide and Dean felt a surge of protectiveness so fierce it overpowered his own pain. More than ever, he wanted to fix this, to see this thing through, if only to erase that desperate expression from Sammy's eyes.

"That's not what this is," Dean said and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing the nape of his neck gently. "I'll try anything."

"Promise me."

The lump in Dean's throat grew. "I promise, Sammy."

And that did it.

Something changed in Sam's expression at the words and it was as though a huge weight suddenly fell off of them. He felt a spark of defiance, a twinkle of genuine hope in sending Michael back to wherever the hell he came from and proving Billie wrong.

"You wanna head out, get some breakfast?" Dean asked after a brief moment of hesitance.

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "We only just got here."

Dean shrugged. "Figured we could both use some refuellin'."

Sam hadn't eaten much in the past couple of days, only picked at his food. But now they were back in the saddle and Sam needed to eat.

When the silence stretched between them, Dean half-expected Sam to shoot him down, but to his surprise Sam gave a soft nod instead. "Okay, yeah. I could eat."

Dean's lips curled upward as he closed the door on his side of the car, turned up the radio and started the engine.

Tomorrow they would try to play another card in their battle against Michael. But today, Dean was content to drive baby down an open highway with Sammy by his side.

They were the guys who saved the world. They were the Winchesters.

They would choose their own ending when their time had come.

 **The End.**

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A/N: _This episode was the perfect representation of why the show has reached 15 reasons. It reminded me of the earlier seasons and of how absolutely gut-wrenchingly beautiful the bond of these two is. I'm so glad the focus is back on the brothers. I really hope you all enjoyed the read! Please drop me a note if you liked it!_


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